Tuesday, December 23, 2008

This is a link to a forthcoming documentary about Poet Hannah Senesh. When she was 22 years old she went on a daring mission to save Jews during WWII, the synopsis is below:

Blessed Is the Match is the first documentary feature about Hannah Senesh, the World War II-era poet and diarist who became a paratrooper, resistance fighter and modern-day Joan of Arc. Safe in Palestine in 1944, she joined a mission to rescue Jews in her native Hungary. Shockingly, it was the only outside rescue mission for Jews during the Holocaust. Hannah parachuted behind enemy lines, was captured, tortured and ultimately executed by the Nazis. Her mother Catherine witnessed the entire ordeal - first as a prisoner with Hannah and later as her advocate, braving the bombed-out streets of Budapest in a desperate attempt to save Hannah. With unprecedented access to the Senesh family archive, this powerful story unfolds through the writings and photographs of Hannah and Catherine Senesh.

Bill Hicks (1961-1994). Like Lenny, using the language of comedy to point out the problems in what our society deems sacred. Hicks talked about the nexus of capitalism, violence, and misused religion as forces of oppression.

Monday, December 8, 2008

That's depressing. This has probably been the best class I've taken so far at UVU. I wish it could be offered as an IS 350R class, that had a Fall AND Spring part to it, because we could take this class so much farther.

Anyway, only one more day of class left. We had some great students in the class as well. I'm sad to see it go...

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Artaud in " Van Gogh the Man Suicided by Society" uses the word "erotomaniac" to capture what he saw in the psychiatrist that were treating him. I think our society at large is dominated by a similar erotomanism , and i think this short play/movie is pointing that out and the negative effects such a mind set produces.

I don't want to discuss Alex Caldiero anymore. In a way it's like we've been discussing him all this time. I personally was discussing him before I ever knew who/what he was. There's too much to be said. There should never be too much to be said. It's impossible to say. What

Speak life? No. But why do you confront and re-confront over and over and never progress? This is what I mean. The conversation was going on for ages before we ever thought to get involved and no one will ever get the last word and the world will stay much the same. And a thousand rapturous puppets will rise up in our absence to parrot what we've already said, or to fill in whatever blanks we've left, and will disappear and make room for the next army of voices without faces.

I am waste and I have nothing more to add. If I ever make another post on Language Scraps, you're welcome to call me a liar. If I ever make another comment in class, feel free to tell me I'm full of shit. To my face. What can I possibly say that my open-mouthed silence won't say better.

....However, I know I won't really be able to leave it alone. Whatever part of me loves the confusion and the futility and the frustration and the humiliation and the repetition and the constant flailing about or steadily moving in a fixed circle will keep coming back for more and more. Sobeit. This class has been absolutely essential and my only gripe is that I'm not required to take it every semester. I don't know why I ever bothered trying to learn anything. Nothing ever stays with me unless it absolutely confounds me to the end of my wits.

Monday, December 1, 2008

At the end of Spring semester 08, I recorded the album I always wanted to record. I planned nothing and did everything. I guess I planned on something, but in my head that equated to “nothing.” For one day I locked my self in a bedroom and with a microphone and a keyboard, pressed record, and then just let it happen. I let myself go somewhere I felt I couldn’t got or at least resisted going for an entire day. I let myself enter a creative mind set that when I exited I was physically and emotionally drained. It took me a whole day to recover. It felt like I let myself go insane and pressed record. Though I did record the album in one day, I periodically mixed it and listened to it through out the summer. I spent way more time mixing it and mastering it than I did recording it. I have been really hesitant to publish the album since recording it because I connected with my self in a way that until our section on poetry and madness I did not know how to be honest about it nor did I have the desire to finish it. I listen to the album now with great satisfaction. I think it is kind of radical. For any that listen, enjoy. Dancing with the Lizards is the name of it. It is about a 100 mb, so on a good internet connection it will take about 8 minute to download. Here is the link:http://www.junglesurvivalcamp.com/Downloads.html